A Thousand Miles Away
by calendaes
Summary: Maybe he’s always been one for selfinflicted torture. He still works at DunderMifflin, after all. JimToby


Title: A Thousand Miles Away

Author: calendae

Pairing: Toby/Jim

Rating: PG

_Do you carry every sadness with you?_

So after Sasha moves to Boston with her mother, he goes to see the new movie with the cartoon animals and spends half the movie wondering which weekend dads are there with the kids they rarely see. He stays till the credits run out.

Maybe he's always been one for self-inflicted torture. He still works at Dunder-Mifflin, after all.

For three weeks he listens to complaints about Michael and Dwight, only made bearable by the picture of Sasha back on his desk. No one else seems to notice if he's a little less peppy, a little more morose.

It's not that different really. Sasha's toys are still in the corner (she'll want them when she comes to visit) and he talks to her almost every night (she lost her front teeth).

_folded in this scrap of paper_

_is a land I grew in_

If he eats lunch at 11, he misses the crowd, barring a few stragglers in dire need of soda. They nod, he nods, and everyone goes back to there own business.

Michael will usually stand in the doorway and stare for a minute before he grunts and walks away.

But then Pam's wedding happens and Jim's transfer PAR passes his desk.

_Think of every town you've lived in_

_every room you lay your head_

_and what is it that you remember?_

Jim brings a ham sandwich for lunch every day. He brings a magazine too, that first day, but puts it away when he sees Toby at one of the tables.

"Hey."

"Hi, Jim."

Jim puts his sandwich on the table and gets up to grab his water bottle out of the fridge. He stalls at the doorway.

"Oh my god, I think Dwight just called Michael a ladies' man."

"Hmm?"

"Never mind. He was on the phone." Jim takes one last look at the empty receptionist's desk and sits down at the table. "Although that does beg the question. Who does Dwight know that could possibly be called a ladies' man?"

Toby swallows a bite of his pasta salad. "You'd be surprised. Those beet farmers are…uh, pretty wild. I've heard."

"No kidding." Jim smiles and leans back in his chair. It's a nice sight. "So Toby, you like football?"

"Sometimes."

"Because my roommate and I are going to watch the game tomorrow and if you don't have any other plans…"

"Yeah. That'd be nice. Thanks."

_and light is only now just breaking_

Jim's roommate Mark had to leave at halftime. Apparently, an afternoon with mopey losers was not his idea of a good time.

Three beers and half a plate of nachos later, the game was over.

"Well. That was just. Pathetic. Why did we want to watch this again? Oh yeah, that's right. It was on." Jim drained the last of his fourth beer and slumped back on the couch.

"I don't know. It wasn't that bad. Okay, it was. But the beer was good."

There were kids playing in the backyard next door and Toby slumped back onto the couch with Jim.

"Hmm?"

"What?"

"Sorry, I thought you said something." Jim shrugged and settled back on the couch.

"No." An uneasy silence settled over the two. Toby stopped and started. "Why are you transferring? I got the form last week."

Jim sighed. "You know why. Everyone knows why. I can't stay here."

"Are you sure? We could…"

"Let's not talk about work, okay?" Jim switched over to the food network. "Ooh, Iron Chef. Wanna see if someone makes fish ice cream?"

_I am carrying this scrap of paper_

_that can crack the darkest sky wide open_

It's hard to say when it changes. There's football on the weekends and then, suddenly, sitcoms on weeknights and dinners after work.

Toby finds little excuses to visit Jim's desk during the day. It isn't like him, but what is right now? He's alone for the first time since high school, no wife and no Sasha. Jim makes him happy.

He knows it can't last and when Jim's final day comes, he tries to smile. Michael buys an ice cream cake but won't let anyone have any after it becomes clear that Jim will be missed more than Michael will be praised.

Everyone leaves and Toby helps Jim carry out his small box of personal effects. They close the lid and lean on the trunk.

"You don't have to do this, Jim. You could stay."

"No, I can't."

"What you can't do is let her do this to you. She made her choice. Don't let her make your choices for you."

"_She's_ not doing anything. There's nothing for me here, okay?"

Toby pauses and digs his fingers into his pockets before he says quietly. "There's me. Maybe. I don't know." Jim says nothing and Toby can hear him swallow. "Nevermind. Sorry."

Toby pushes off the trunk and turns away. He's about to apologize again when he feels a hand on his shoulder. "Toby, I. This is. I mean, I'd be lying if…" Jim stops and then leans close to Toby. It's different than Toby expected but still feels perfectly right.

When they pull back, Jim won't look Toby in the eyes.

"I still have to leave. If I could stay, I would. You deserve better."

"I don't want better."

_Do you carry every sadness with you_

_every hour your heart was broken_

_every night the fear and darkness_

_lay down with you_

Toby moves to Boston in October. It's cold and wet. His new job is with a copy repair firm and he lives three blocks away from Sasha and Diane.

There wasn't a party when he left, but Jan sent him a very nice card and everyone save Michael and Dwight toasted him at Poor Richard on his last day.

He thinks about driving to the Hartford office after his first week or calling Jan to beg for his job back, but Sasha finds her Barbie at his new apartment on Friday and by Saturday afternoon, he knows he's made the right choice.


End file.
